


Kudzu Blossoms

by ljenner



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljenner/pseuds/ljenner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I went with my recipient's request for a childhood story that involved a younger Steve and Ghost :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Kudzu Blossoms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kymericl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kymericl/gifts).



> I went with my recipient's request for a childhood story that involved a younger Steve and Ghost :)

The chilly rain splattered hard against the outside of the classroom windows, the opposite sides of the glass smudged with fingerprints of so many careless children. While the sudden downpour was too warm for sleet on this mid-November afternoon in Louisiana, it still left the group of seventh grade students trapped in their classroom for the duration of recess.

On any normal day the confinement would have bored Steve, but today he was distracted from the tedium by scrawling half-hearted answers on a packet of homework papers that he’d neglected to fill out the night before. No, not all his answers were _right_ , but filling in _something_ into the answer blanks made him feel ever-so-slightly less of a slacker than usual. After spending hours together exploring an unfamiliar patch of woods the night before, Steve had no idea how Ghost had managed to finish the mountain of homework. But then again, a lot of things Ghost managed to do were a mystery to Steve.

Ghost sat next to Steve, flush against the wall in one corner of the classroom, his legs drawn up against his chest as he poured over the aged book that he held in both hands. If the delicate violet blossoms inked on the cover didn’t give away the fact that the book focused on plants, the elegant scroll of ‘UNTAMED BOTANICALS’ across the top of the cover certainly did. A calm silence rested between the two boys; Steve was working and Ghost was immersed, and they didn’t need to speak at every moment in order to feel comfortable beside each other.

And they would have remained silent for the duration of recess had they not been crassly interrupted.

“Hey, whatcha reading, fag?” one of their classmates asked Ghost with a smirk, the boy flanked with several other students who sniggered at the question. Without waiting for an answer, another boy shot a sloppy spit ball in Ghost’s direction, which missed and stuck against the dull white wall behind the fair-haired boy’s head. Ghost, clearly unfazed by taunts, didn’t lift his gaze from the yellowed page of the book that Miz Catlin had gifted him when she’d visited Ghost and his grandmother the morning prior.

Insults never seemed to bother Ghost, but they sure as hell made Steve’s skin crawl. Before the other boys stopped laughing he had already pushed himself up to stand and brandished his sharpened pencil like a blade out toward the ringleader who had _dared_ to throw an insult at Ghost. “Say that again and I’ll _stab_ your eyes out, you stupid fuck.” Only twelve years old, Steve had already developed an impressive vocabulary of curses, reserved mainly for those who _really_ pissed him off.

The brash words and the threat of violence via writing utensil were enough to make the bullies shy away, but the incident left a sour taste in Steve’s mouth; he hated others picking on his new-found friend.

Finally returning to reality, Ghost looked up at Steve with a calm expression; clearly the exchange between their classmates had gone completely over his head. “Hey, Steve, I once saw a house completely covered in kudzu.”

The sudden change of topic startled Steve back into a calmer frame of mind, so much so that he clumsily dropped his pencil. As he watched it ping against the cheap carpeted floor, he marveled at just how quickly he’d jumped in to defend Ghost. But he felt like he _had_ to; Ghost wasn’t going to defend himself and bullies would walk all over him if Steve didn’t interject. But the verbal spar was over now, and the shift from threats to kudzu left Steve at a bit of a loss for words; all he could manage in response to Ghost’s random statement was a lame, “Yeah?”

“Mm-hm,” Ghost replied, closing his book for now and staring into space as he described the house from his memory. “The people who lived inside just let it keep growing and growing, never trimmed it. It covered all the windows, the brick walls, and even covered the rooftop – it was like a big sea of green just washed over the house and didn’t leave. It was so bad that they had to force the door open so they could get in and out. From the outside, you couldn’t even tell there was a house under all the kudzu. And eventually they couldn’t get out at all.”

Steve slumped down to sit next to Ghost again, his half-finished homework forgotten as he listened to the odd tale that his friend weaved. Whether or not Ghost’s story was real, Steve couldn’t be certain, but Ghost was _good_ and Steve felt much more inclined to believe rather than doubt. Curious, he asked, “So what happened to them?”

“They’re still inside,” Ghost explained, inhaling deeply as if savoring the sweet smell of violet kudzu blossoms. “Some kudzu grows inside the cracks in the windows, and they use that to make salads, or sometimes they fry the leaves too, til they’re crispy like potato chips. They boil the blossoms to make jam, lots of pink jars all placed on shelves in the pantry. And they even use the vines to make baskets.”

Pushing his dark hair away from his face with his fingers, Steve let the story gestate in his mind a moment as he tried to think of something to say in response. Sure, he could have pointed out the logical fallacies in Ghost’s story (just _how_ could they survive on greens and jam? And _why_ exactly was basket-making a high priority for a family sequestered due to kudzu overgrowth?), but that probably would have hurt Ghost and that was something Steve just _didn’t_ do. The rain still washed against the classroom windows; the sound was soothing compared to the loud voices of their classmates enjoying their indoor recess away from Ghost and Steve’s corner of the classroom. “That stuff tastes like shit.”

“Hm?”

“Kudzu jelly.”

“You’ve never had it the way Miz Catlin makes it,” Ghost replied, holding the book in his arms against his chest as if it were some sacred, important object. “You could come with me to visit her later. She’s my grandmother’s friend. She knows all sorts of things about plants.”

With a shrug, Steve replied, “Yeah, sure.” Sickly-sweet flower jelly wasn’t at all appealing to him, but spending time with Ghost _was_ , so he remained agreeable to his friend’s strange whims. A kudzu-covered house wasn’t the most fantastical story he’d heard from Ghost, and it likely wouldn’t be his last.

The shrill ring of the school bell broke Steve’s reverie, and with a panicked ‘ _hell!_ ’ he dove toward his homework again, frantically scribbling in the last few answers. Ghost smiled and indulged a moment of daydreaming before class started again, thoughts lost in the memory of summer heat and lush green overgrowth.


End file.
